


Featherweight

by stranglerfig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crying, Emotions, Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, awkward conversations about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranglerfig/pseuds/stranglerfig
Summary: “I think we need to talk about sex,” Hermione said, to the utter astonishment of Harry and Ron.A scene from the aftermath of a war.





	Featherweight

“I think we need to talk about sex,” Hermione said, to the utter astonishment of Harry and Ron.

It was summer, Voldemort was gone from the world, and they were hiding in Harry's bedroom at Grimmauld Place. There was time for such things now, in a way there had never been before.

“What?” Harry asked blankly. He was resting his head on her lap, enjoying the weight of Ron’s hand on his stomach while Ron leaned on Hermione’s shoulder. They were all on his bed. Ron had stopped leaning on Hermione to favor her with an incredulous look.

“We have to talk about it eventually,” Hermione said, refusing to be flustered. “You two have noticed it, haven’t you?”

They acknowledged the truth in her words. They had all noticed the sparking recently, the heat that had grown between them.

Ron’s little finger started rubbing nervously across Harry’s stomach, back and forth. The heat was there, too; it was Harry’s head in Hermione’s lap, it was Ron’s gaze catching Hermione’s and then slipping away.

“What’s to talk about?” Ron asked. His finger was still rubbing. Harry wanted it to stop, but he didn’t. He wished Ron would notice.

“Well,” Hermione began. “Do we want to have it, for one?”

Everyone was silent, then. Harry could hear Hermione’s heartbeat through her thigh. Ron’s finger wouldn’t stop stroking over his stomach, it was rucking up his shirt.

“Well,” Ron said. “I suppose I do. But if you two don’t, that’s alright.”

“I do,” said Hermione. “I suppose I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. Harry?” They looked down at him.

Harry flushed. “I…I dunno.”

“It’s perfectly alright not to,” Hermione said.

“No. No, I.” Harry bit his lip. Ron’s finger was still stroking. Hermione’s pulse thumped through him. “Look, Ron, can you stop?”

“Stop what?” Then he looked at his hand. He had rucked Harry’s shirt up even more, his pinky finger was stroking over skin.

“Oh.” Ron stopped and flushed bright red, but he didn’t move his hand. “Oh.” He peered down at Harry, who held his gaze, though he was flushed too. Then he began to move his little finger again. Back and forth. Over the skin of Harry’s stomach, which was suddenly too tight.

“Ron,” Harry said, but it came out choked. He looked up at Hermione, whose head was tilted, fascinated. Were they really doing this? Was this really going to happen? The shift of Ron’s weight, ever-so-slightly over him, and the edge to Hermione’s eyes said that it was.

Ron’s finger was still moving. Further down his stomach. He was hard. Ron’s hand stopped at the waist band of his jeans and edged just a centimeter lower, so that he was stroking the plane of Harry’s stomach just under the band of his pants, making his abdomen twitch.

It seemed all three of them were holding their breaths. Ron as he stared at Harry’s jumping stomach, at the bulge of his cock, Hermione as her pulse thundered under Harry’s head, and Harry as he tried to understand what was happening. This was happening. Could it be happening? Right then? As they watched?

Yes. Ron’s stroking didn’t speed up, just kept that steady, jolting pace, and Harry’s breath grew labored. He felt, absurdly, that he was going to cry. His whole body felt too hot, too busy, like he was feeling too many things at once, all coming from Ron’s hand on his stomach. Ron and Hermione’s eyes were on him like spotlights, pinning him to the spot, drawing gasps of disbelief from his chest. Was this happening?

It was. He would have thrashed if he could move. Instead he came, inside his pants, to Ron’s little finger stroking his stomach, tears spilling down his cheeks.

He expected them to move closer, but they didn’t. Ron’s hand stayed on his stomach, finger still moving, his mouth gaping. Hermione’s cheeks were flushed, and she too pinned Harry with her eyes. The tears still came. Why? Ron, he noticed, was hard. Still tears leaked from his eyes. His whole body felt like it was floating. Their eyes were the only thing holding him down.

“Crying,” was the first thing any of them said, and it was Ron.

“It’s normal,” Hermione said, of course, voice hushed. “I read about it. It probably feels like it’s just too much to experience at once.”

“Bit,” Harry said. “Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re…” He reached over and put a hand over the bulge in Ron’s pants. Ron bucked up into the touch. He placed a hand over Harry’s and held it there and thrust up into his palm like that. Harry could feel the hardness of what was beneath, could feel its general shape, maybe, and the thought made more tears come. Ron caught sight of them and came himself, in his pants, and Harry could feel it through the material of his jeans. Ron held his hand there for a few more seconds then let it go. Harry had no will to direct it, and it rested where it landed between Ron’s legs.

“Hermione?” Ron asked, his voice cracking. He was flushed so red his head looked ready to pop.

Hermione shifted, which moved Harry’s head where it was in her lap. “Yes,” she breathed. “Do you know…?”

“Er,” Ron said, slipping a hand under her skirt, under Harry’s head. “I’ve been reading too.”

Hermione gasped, either at what he had said or what he was doing, or both. Harry tried to roll his head off of her lap to give them more room but Hermione reached out a hand and held him there, gripping his hair. She rolled into Ron’s hand, moving Harry’s head with her, pulling his hair, and she came, too, with several quick inhalations and a spasm of her hand around Harry’s hair.

Ron removed his hand. He put it on Harry’s stomach. A few tears fell down Hermione’s cheeks, and, now that Harry looked closely, Ron’s eyes were wet as well.

“Why’m I crying so much?” Harry asked, for it was true, he was still crying. He could feel his mind trying to handle everything that had just happened. It was trying to understand Hermione’s steadying breath and Ron’s damp fingers and how his stomach felt raw.

“Everyone’s different,” Hermione said. “We’re here, though. What do you need?” Was it strange that they had gone back to staring at him? Maybe not. Maybe it was just what they did. Ron took the hand that wasn’t resting on Harry’s stomach and wiped some of the tears away, Hermione helped.

“Can we…just lie here?” Harry asked.

“One second,” Ron said. He pulled out his wand and cast a cleaning charm. “Now we can.”

They curled together, Ron on one side of Harry and Hermione on the other, reaching over him to touch each other. Ron’s other hand stayed on his stomach. Hermione stroked his hair. He was still crying. But it felt right. 


End file.
